In his capacity of military surgeon he was not compromised like the rest of us; and after the revolt in the cuartel he was left free to follow his vocation. While seeking permission to dress the wound I had received, chance conducted him to a place where he could overhear a conversation that was being carried on between Uraga and one of his lieutenants--a ruffian named Roblez, fit a.s.sociate for his superior.

They were in high glee over what had happened, carousing, and in their cups not very cautious of what they said. Don Prospero heard enough to make him acquainted with their scheme, so diabolical you will scarcely give credence to it. I was to be made away with in the night--carried up to the mountains, and there murdered! With no traces left, it would be supposed that I had made my escape from the prison. And the good doctor heard other designs equally atrocious. What the demons afterwards intended doing when my sister should be left unprotected--"

Something like a groan escapes from the listener's lips, while his fingers move nervously, as if clutching at a weapon.

"Devoted to me, Don Prospero at once resolved upon a course of action.

There was not a moment to be lost. He obtained permission to attend me professionally in the prison. It was a cheap grace on Uraga's part, considering his ulterior design. An attendant, a sort of hospital a.s.sistant, was allowed to accompany the doctor to the cell, carrying his lints, drugs, and instruments. Fortunately, I had not been quite stripped by the ruffians who had imprisoned me, and in my own purse, along with that of Don Prospero, was a considerable sum of gold--enough for tempting the attendant to change clothes and places with me. He was the more ready to do so, relying upon a story he intended to tell--that we had overpowered and compelled him. Poor fellow! As we afterwards learnt, it did not save him. He was shot the next morning to appease the chagrin of Uraga, furious at our escape. We cannot help feeling regret for his fate; but, under the circ.u.mstances, what else could have been done?

"We stepped forth from the _carcel_, the doctor leading the way, and I, his a.s.sistant, bearing the paraphernalia after him. We pa.s.sed out of the barracks unchallenged. Fortunately, the night was a dark one, and the guards were given to carousing. The sentries were all intoxicated.

"By stealth, and in silence, we hastened on to my house, where I found Adela, as you may suppose, in a state of agonised distress. But there was no time for words--not even of explanation. With two of my servants whom I could trust, we hastily collected some of our animals--horses and pack-mules. The latter we loaded with such things as we could think of as being requisite for a journey. We intended it to be a long one--all the way across the great prairies. I knew there would be no safety for us within the limits of New Mexico; and I remembered what you had said but a few months before--your kind proffer of hospitality, should it ever be my fate to seek refuge in your country. And to seek it we set forth, leaving my house untenanted, or only in charge of the remaining domestics, from whom gold had gained a promise not to betray us. The doctor, Adela and myself, the two peons who had volunteered to accompany us, with the girl, Conchita, composed our travelling party. I knew we dared not take the route usually travelled. We should be followed by hostile pursuers and forced back, perhaps slain upon the spot. I at least would have had a short shrift. Knowing this, we made direct for the mountains, with whose pa.s.ses I was familiar, having traversed them in pursuit of the savages.

"We pa.s.sed safely through the Sierra, and kept on towards the Rio Pecos.

Beyond this river all was unknown to us. We only knew that there lay the Llano Estacado, invested with mysterious terrors--the theme of our childhood's fears--a vast stretch of desert, uninhabited, or only by savages seeking scalps, by wild beasts ravening for blood, by hideous reptiles--serpents breathing poison. But what were all these dangers to that we were leaving behind? Nothing, and this thought inspired us to proceed.

"We crossed the Pecos and entered upon the sterile plain. We knew not how far it extended; only that on the other side lay a fertile country through which we might penetrate to the frontier settlements of your great free nation. This was the beacon of our hopes, the goal of safety.

"We travelled in an easterly course; but there were days when the sun was obscured by clouds; and then, unguided, we had either to remain at rest or run the chance of getting strayed.

"We toiled on, growing weak for want of food, and suffering terribly from thirst. No water was to be found anywhere--not a drop.

"Our animals suffered as ourselves. Staggering under the weight of their loads, one by one they gave out, dropping down upon the desert plain. Only one held out bravely to the last--the mustang mare that brought you to our present abode. Yes, Lolita survived to carry my dear sister, as if she understood the value we all placed upon her precious burden. The others gave out--first the horses ridden by Don Prospero and myself, then the pack-mules. Fortunately, these fell near the spot where we at length found relief--near enough for their loads, and two of themselves, to be afterwards recovered.

"One day, as we toiled on afoot, in the hourly expectation of death, we came in sight of this fair spot. It appeared to us a Paradise, as you say it did to yourself. Under our eyes were green trees and the gleam of crystal streams; in our ears the songs of birds we had never expected to hear again. Chance had brought us direct to the path, the only one by which the valley can be reached from the upper plain. Inspirited by the fair spectacle below, we gained strength enough to descend. We drank of the sweet water, and procured food from the branches of the trees that shaded it. It was the season when fruits and berries were abundant. Afterwards we discovered game, and were successful in capturing it.

"Soon with restored strength we were able to go back, and recover the paraphernalia we had left upon the plain, along with two of the mules that, after resting, had regained their feet, and could stagger on a little farther.

"At first we only thought of making this a temporary resting-place; though there seemed but slight hope of being able to continue our journey. But as the days pa.s.sed, and we were left undisturbed, we began to realise the fact that we had found an asylum, safe as pleasant.

"It was not likely that anyone would discover the track we had taken in our flight. Even the resentment of Uraga would scarce pursue us across the Staked Plain. In any case, there was no help for it but to remain in the valley, as we had not animals enough to carry us on. Our only alternative was to go back to the Del Norte--a thing not to be thought of. We resolved, therefore, on staying, at least for a time. I had conceived a plan for communicating with my friends in New Mexico, and am not without hope that sooner or later we may get tidings that will make it safe for as to return. In our country, as you know, there is nothing permanent; and we have hopes ere long to see the Liberal party once more in the ascendant.

"Our resolution to remain here becoming fixed we sot about making our situation as comfortable as circ.u.mstances would permit. We erected this humble tenement whose roof now shelters us. We turned fishermen and hunters; in the last my sister proving more accomplished than any of us--a real huntress, as you have seen. We have enjoyed the life amazingly; more especially our worthy _medico_, who is an enthusiastic naturalist, and here finds a rare opportunity of gratifying his scientific tastes. For subsistence we have not had to depend altogether upon the chase. Manuel, one of our peons, an old muleteer, makes an occasional trip to Albuquerque, the route of which he has good reason to remember. I send him with messages, and to purchase provisions. He is cautious to make his approaches under cover of night, and do his marketing with circ.u.mspection. With our gold, not yet all gone, he is enabled to bring back such commodities as we stand in need of; while a friend, entrusted with the secret of our hiding-place, keeps us informed of the _novedades_. Now you know all."

CHAPTER THIRTY SEVEN.

THE INTERCEPTED LETTER.

Colonel Miranda, having told the tale of his perilous escape, for a time remains silent and reflective. So does his listener. Both are thinking on the same subject--the villainy of Gil Uraga.

Hamersley first breaks silence, asking the question,--

"Did you get my letter?"

"What letter?"

"I wrote you only one. Now I think of it, you could not have received it. No. By the time it would reach Albuquerque, you must have been gone from there."

"I got no letter from you, Don Francisco. You say you sent one. What was the nature of its contents?"

"Nothing of any importance. Merely to say that I was coming back to New Mexico, and hoped to find you in good health."

"Did it particularise the time you expected to reach Albuquerque?"

"Yes; as far as I could fix that, if I remember rightly, it did."

"And the route you were to take?"

"That too. When I wrote the letter I intended to make trial of a new trail lately discovered--up the Canadian, and touching the northern end of the Staked Plain. I did make trial of it, alas! with lamentable result. But why do you ask these questions, Colonel Miranda?"

The colonel does not make immediate answer. He appears more meditative than ever, as though some question has come before his mind calling for deliberate examination.

While he is thus occupied the ex-Ranger enters the room and sits down beside them. Walt is welcome. Indeed, Don Valerian had already designed calling him into their counsel. For an idea has occurred to the Mexican Colonel requiring the joint consideration of all three.

Turning to the other two, he says,--

"I've been thinking a good deal about the attack on your caravan. The more I reflect on it the more I am led to believe that some of the Indians who plundered you were painted."

"They were all painted," is the reply of the young prairie merchant.

"True, Don Francisco; but that isn't what I mean."

"I reckon I knows what ye mean," interposes the ex-Ranger, rising excitedly from his chair on hearing the Mexican's remark. "It's been my own suspeeshun all along. You know what I tolt ye, Frank?"

Hamersley looks interrogatively at his old comrade.

"Did I not say," continues Wilder, "that I seed two men 'mong the Injuns wi' ha'r upon thar faces? They wa'n't Injuns; they war whites. A'n't that what ye mean, Kurnel Meoranda?"

"_Precisamente_!" is the colonel's reply.

The other two wait for him to continue on with the explanation Wilder has already surmised. Even the young prairie merchant--less experienced in Mexican ways and wickedness, in infamy so incredible--begins to have a glimmering of the truth.

Seemingly weighing his words, Miranda proceeds,--

"No doubt it was a band of Comanche Indians that destroyed your caravan and killed your comrades. But I have as little doubt of there being white men among them--one at least, and that one he who planned and instigated the deed."

"Who, Colonel Miranda?" is the quick interrogatory of the Kentuckian, while with flashing eyes and lips apart he breathlessly awaits the answer. For all, he does not much need it; the name to be p.r.o.nounced is on the tip of his own tongue.

It is again "Gil Uraga!"

"Yes," replies the Mexican, with added emphasis. "He is, undoubtedly, the robber who despoiled you. Though done in the guise of an Indian onslaught, with real Indians as his a.s.sistants, he has been their instructor--their leader. I see it all now clear as sunlight. He got your letter, which you say was addressed to me as colonel commanding at Albuquerque. As a matter of course, he opened it. It told him when and where to meet you; your strength, and the value of your cargo. The last has not been needed as an incentive for him to a.s.sail you, Don Francisco. The mark you made upon his cheek was sufficient. Didn't I tell you at the time he would move heaven and earth to have revenge on you--on both of us? He has succeeded; behold his success. I a refugee, robbed of everything; you plundered the same; both ruined men!"

"Not yet!" cries the Kentuckian, starting to his feet. "Not ruined yet, Colonel Miranda. If the thing be as you say, I shall seek a second interview with this scoundrel--this fiend; seek till I obtain it. And then--"

"Hyur's one," interrupts the ex-Ranger, unfolding his gigantic form with unusual rapidity, "who'll take part in that sarch. Yis, Frank, this chile's willin' to go wi' ye to the heart o' Mexiko, plum centre; to the halls o' the Montyzoomas; reddy to start this minnit."

"If," resumes Hamersley, his coolness contrasting with the excited air of his comrade, now roused to a terrible indignation, "if, Colonel Miranda, it turns out as you conjecture, that Gil Uraga has taken part in the destruction of my waggon-train, or even been instrumental in causing it, I shall leave no stone unturned to obtain justice."

"Justice!" exclaims the ex-Ranger, with a deprecatory toss of the head.

"In case o' this kind we want somethin' beside. To think o' thirteen innercent men attacked without word o' warnin', shot down, stabbed, slaughtered, and sculped! Think o' that; an' don't talk tamely o'